Waltzin’
by Liebling
Summary: “Ah ah!” Sirius said, a grim smile playing on his handsome face. “That’s the funny thing...” Sirius Black talks to Bella.


Authors Note:   
  
Sirius is nineteen in this one and Bella is twenty-one  
  
:-)  
  
Set during a 'Black' family reunion.  
  
It's actually pointless and if you don't understand how far stubborn people will go just to tick someone else off then I'm not so sure you'll get this.  
  
~*~  
  
She was alone. She usually was, granted. But she was alone with her very own family.  
  
Sirius was all around, jumping off walls, experiencing with 'mixing drinks' and charming the old ladies.  
  
Lots of talk about 'purebloods' and 'our blood runs pure.' She was used to this sort of thing, she dully sipped her butterbeer and looked around at the guests.   
  
All from well to do families. All dressed well.  
  
And there was Sirius. His tie was askew and his sports jacket was unbuttoned. The young man's hair obviously hasn't been combed, as it was wavy and falling into his hazel eyes. He'd never lived up to others' expectations.  
  
He walked over to the oak table she was sitting at and smiled grimly, taking a seat.  
  
"You're utter trash, you know that?"  
  
She rolled her eyes, "my blood's just as pure as yours," she snarled.  
  
"I wasn't referring to blood," he said bluntly.  
  
She made a very loud 'tut' sound and went back to sipping her drink. "Then what were you referring to cousin dearest?"  
  
"Personality," he shrugged as an older man motioned him over.  
  
"Ha! You think there's any personality in here?"  
  
"Right here," he pointed to himself. "All of these people, they're old and rich, nothing going for them...just their pure blood. We're young, Bella. And I like to think we've got a lot more going for us."  
  
"Easy for you to say," she said.  
  
She pointed to Rudolphus who was over speaking to her Mother quietly.  
  
"You have the world going for you, Black."  
  
He saw her eyes twinkle slightly and he said, in barely more than a whisper, "...you have the world going for you too Bella."  
  
"I've got a husband," she said curtly. "And soon we'll have a child. We serve the Dark Lord and we love it. We do not have the world going for us, the world has worked us over." Her voice was cold and callous and her face was pinched up in a pout.  
  
"Ah ah!" Sirius said, a grim smile playing on his handsome face. "That's the funny thing, the world didn't work you over, you worked the world over."  
  
She glared at him, and glanced at the dancing couples. "That should be Rudolpus and I."  
  
"Not everyone was made to dance," he said cryptically. "Your husband...he should be here with you."  
  
"Who's to say he should do anything?" She snarled.   
  
"You're supposed to be happy, you know," he said as he raked a hand through his shaggy ebony hair.  
  
"It's just so easy to say that isn't it?" Her voice cut like a knife and she continued looking at the dancing couples.  
  
"You know what your problem is?" He asked, and didn't wait for an answer. "You're a sorry excuse for flesh and bones. All you do is pity yourself. If you want to bloody dance get up there and dance. Do you need permission to speak?"  
  
He had seen her angry before. Such as when they were younger and he threw a glass of ice cold water on her.   
  
But she was irate. Her cold eyes met his and she stood up from the oak chair and slammed it against the table.  
  
He looked slightly amused and steadied his drink as the table shook.  
  
She may have been obnoxious and petty, even antisocial. But Bellatrix Lestrange was a fighter. And she simply fought everything. She was as stubborn as a mule.  
  
The young woman put a pale hand on her hip and said very loudly in a hoarse voice (as though holding back tears.)  
  
"Dance with me."  
  
And it was a demand.  
  
"Go get Rudolphus," he stated.  
  
"I'm sorry to tell you little Prince but you don't always get what you want. Dance with me. Or I'll tell your Mummy about Esmerellda-"  
  
"You wouldn't!" He cried.  
  
"Oh I would."  
  
He got up hesitantly from the chair and led her to the dance floor.  
  
There they waltzed and the grip she had on his hand was almost crushing. But she was smiling a very grim smile and her shoes seemed to always step on his bare feet.  
  
And it was on purpose.  
  
And he knew it.  
  
Anyone who saw the two would have thought they were trying to kill each other. Granted, they probably were.  
  
When the long music finally stopped she stepped away and curtseyed slightly.  
  
"You bloody git," she said.  
  
He didn't reply.  
  
She turned on her heel and walked back to the oak table, her head held high.  
  
~*~  
  
La Fin 


End file.
